


One Cup Sugar, One Cup Spice

by avintagekiss24



Category: Defending Jacob (TV 2020)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Christmas Smut, Corruption, Daddy Kink, F/M, Hand Jobs, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Praise Kink, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24
Summary: You keep your eyes on the tall Andy, sliding them the length of his body. He’s sturdy. Broad shoulders not so hidden underneath his zip up hoodie, clinging to thick biceps. Dark jeans accentuate long legs and a little waist. A perfect, full beard lines his strong jaw and chin. Two enormous hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, so large that they don’t even fit right… You inhale deep, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the flesh as a tiny moan slips through.
Relationships: Andy Barber & You, Andy Barber/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	One Cup Sugar, One Cup Spice

**Author's Note:**

> As always, written with a black!reader in mind. You can find me on tumblr @ avintagekiss24

There’s a light dust of white covering the green lawns and black asphalt of the street. You shiver as you follow your parents out towards their car, pulling your beanie down over your ears before you shove your hands into your navy blue Dartmouth hoodie.

“Honey,” your mom coos, turning back towards you as your dad loads the car, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? Your aunt has plenty of room.”

“I’m positive,” you laugh, “Aunt Sohpie and I don’t get along that great anyway.”

“Well, you could try a  _ little _ harder.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes wide as you stare at her, “She called me a stuck up, yuppie bitch when I told her I wasn’t going to stop using deodorant.”

Your dad chuckles, prompting a swift slap to the shoulder from your mother before she turns back towards you, “Sophie is a free spirit. She doesn’t believe in putting chemicals in or on her body. One week of trying to get along won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt,” you answer, pulling her into a hug, “Smelling her B.O. for a week would actually kill me.”

Your mother tuts, pulling back and slumping her shoulders a little as she squeezes your sides gently, “I don’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

“Oh, stop badgering the girl. She’ll be fine,” your dad cuts in, kissing your forehead when he approaches, “She had a tough semester, she’s allowed some alone time. Be good, baby. I left a credit card on my desk for any emergencies.”

You smile warmly, “Thanks daddy.”

There’s a sound of a door opening, then closing, heavy footsteps against the old wood of the porch next door, “Oh, Andy,” your mom calls towards the neighbor, “You got a minute?”

Your face scrunches as you glance over at your father, who sighs heavy, “Don’t get mad, baby.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“She kinda, you know,” he shrugs, knocking his head back and forth, “Asked the neighbor to look in on you while we’re gone,” when your face drops, he throws up his hands, “I didn’t do it, she did.”

“ _ Mom! _ ” You hiss, flipping your eyes to the tall, dark haired man cutting across his front lawn, “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m twenty years old!”

“Hush,” she whispers, plastering a smile on her face as she wraps her arm around your waist, “Sorry to bother you, Andy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s okay, I was just checking the mail.”

You’re angry and embarrassed as the tall, older man approaches, but a sudden heat blooms across your chilled brown skin. Pushing your glasses up your nose, you take a heavy breath, expelling it hard as you eye him. You’ve only really seen him in passing, throwing your hand up in a friendly wave as you jogged into your childhood home during a long weekend away from school. You only vaguely remember him moving in about a year or two before. Hell, you don’t even think the two of you have uttered anything more than just a neighborly ‘hey’, and now, thanks to your mother, he’s going to be  _ keeping an eye on you _ . 

Just wonderful. 

She smiles proudly, “You remember our daughter, right?”

“I do,” he smiles slowly, an intense pair of blue-green eyes bouncing between yours, “We’ve run into each other a few times over the years. How you doin’ kiddo?”

He reaches out, extending a large palm and long fingers. You take it gently, smiling soft as you drop your eyes from his, nerves suddenly pooling in your stomach, “Um, good. Thanks for asking. How um,” you swallow, glancing back up at him, finding his eyes still centered on you, “How are you?”

He shrugs, but keeps your much smaller hand in his, “Can’t complain.”

“Listen, honey,” your mom starts, “I asked Mr. Barber to pop over and check on you every now and again while we’re gone.”

“ _ Mother _ ,” fake laughter filling the air, your face hot from being annoyed to all hell, “I’m not a child, and I’m sure Mr. Barber has better things to do with his time than to check on me constantly.”

“It’s no problem,” he shrugs again, those eyes of his now roaming, down your body, then up again,  _ slowly _ , “I have the next couple of weeks off myself.”

“Congrats on the promotion, by the way.” Your father smiles, finally drawing Andy’s attention away from you. He nudges your side with his elbow, “Andy’s the new District Attorney.”

You keep your eyes on the tall Andy, sliding them the length of his body. He’s  _ sturdy _ . Broad shoulders not so hidden underneath his zip up hoodie, clinging to thick biceps. Dark jeans accentuate long legs and a little waist. A perfect, full beard lines his strong jaw and chin. Two enormous hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants, so large that they don’t even fit right… You inhale deep, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the flesh as a tiny moan slips through. 

Blue eyes snap to you again as it sounds.  _ God _ . Your lips part, eyes widen as they stare back at him in embarrassment. He just smiles again, slow and seemingly  _ knowing _ ; his eyes falling down your frame again. 

“We better go if we’re gonna miss traffic, hun.” Your dad’s voice suddenly breaks into your conscience, snapping you out of the small trance that Andy Barber has leveled over you, “Andy, thanks for watching over our baby while we’re gone.”

Andy winks at you, “I won’t hover, I promise. If you need anything, at any time, I’m right next door, okay? Better yet, let me give you my number.”

You nod quick, clearing your throat as you fumble around with your phone, pulling it out of your hoodie and handing it over to him, “Sure, yeah. Th-thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Andy,” he corrects, reaching out and cupping your elbow gently, “Please.”

Another warmth spreads through you, emanating from the contact, making you giggle and smile nervously like a stupid  _ girl _ before you get a hold of yourself and blink away. You all exchange another round of pleasantries, Andy wishing your parents a safe trip before he locks eyes with you again— biting his lip as he blinks and hands your phone back before turning away and heading towards his mailbox.

Almost frozen in place, you blink as you watch him move across his grass, forcefully swallowing.  _ You really need to get out more. _

One last hug from your mom and dad and you wave as they pull out of the driveway, your mom waving excitedly at you through the windshield. Rolling your eyes, but smiling wide, you return a wave before heading back inside, locking the door behind you before making a brisk b-line to the front door. 

Andy’s still outside, pushing the green trash cans up against his garage as you peek out at him from behind the thin, white, door curtains. He throws open one of the lids before dipping his head, eyeing the mail in his hand as he flips through it slowly, tossing the junk into the open can. A pink blush piques on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, lips red with the chill. He looks up suddenly— out of nowhere— and cocks his head, letting another smile curl onto his lips when the two of you make eye contact again.

You gasp and jump back, instantly turning on your heel to run up the stairs towards your bedroom, “ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” _

-

The smell of fresh baked cookies fills the house as you pull a pan from the oven. You hum in satisfaction, a small smile on your face as you scoop the sugar cookies onto the cooling rack before pulling your mom’s Santa Claus mittens off your hands and tossing them to the counter. Last Christmas by Wham plays from the small bluetooth speaker in the corner of the kitchen, A Charlie Brown Christmas on mute playing from the ipad leaning against the utensil holder. 

There’s a random crackling from the fire you started in the living room as you move around, a whir from the mixer as it beats the eggs, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and corn syrup together. You dip your finger into the mixture, popping it into your mouth and groaning as the sweetness explodes on your tongue before you pull the beaters out, slipping your finger down the stainless steel to collect the icing still stuck to them. 

A knock sounds from the front door, permeating through the rather quiet house. You lean to the side, blinking at the door as a shadow shifts through the windows on either side. Shoving the icing laden finger into your mouth, you jog towards the door, bare feet heavy against the wood floor. 

“One second, one second,” you mumble, wiping your hands on your pale pink cotton shorts before you tug at your hoodie and unlock the door. A sharp inhale of cold air fills your chest when you pull open the door to find one Andy fucking Barber standing on the opposite side, “Oh,” is all you can manage. 

“Hey,” he smiles, “It’s been a few days, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Being a biomedical engineering student, you can rattle off some of the most difficult, obscure words known to man with exactly zero problems. When it comes to social interaction with the hot, forty-something, lawyer next door? Your tongue is heavy, your brain…  _ dumb _ . 

His smile widens as you blink like a moron, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he waits for you to talk. _ Here’s the part where you speak, dumbass! _ “Um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m good, sorry.”

“Smells good in here.”

Nodding, you bite your lip, your eyes everywhere but on his face— his stare just  _ too _ much, “I’m making cookies.” you glance over your shoulder before you point, “Do you want to make some? I mean,” you slam your eyes closed, “Do you want to  _ try _ some? Not, some, one, do you— do you want to try one? Or some… I guess… whatever.”

Idiot. You’re a bumbling, stumbling, idiot.

He chuckles, the rumble low and deep as he runs one of those big ass hands through his dark, soft looking hair, “That is the best offer I’ve had all day.”

He steps over the threshold, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches to close the door. You snatch your hand from it quickly, wringing it within the other as you turn awkwardly and move towards the kitchen, swallowing hard, suddenly hyper aware of how  _ bare _ your legs are. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Andy starts from behind you, “I’m surprised to find you here and not out with some friends.”

You move behind the marble topped island in the center of the kitchen as Andy walks around the opposite side. His eyes are on you again, staring as you fumble with the spatula, your fingers going as dumb as your brain, dropping it with a loud  _ clang _ . You don’t even know why— okay, you know  _ why _ , but this is something deeper, something you haven’t experienced before. 

“Oh,” you shrug, “No, I uh, I just kinda like to stay around the house.”

He nods slowly, “A homebody, huh? Me too.”

He makes you dizzy; his masculinity is  _ intimidating _ . It fills up every little space in the room. His intelligence— worldly,  _ experienced— _ oozes from him. He looks like you could ask him anything,  _ anything _ , and he’d have the right answer for you.  _ He could teach you a thing or two, that’s for sure.  _

A shudder creeps through your body, heat blooming across your skin, having to shift on your feet as your stomach flutters while you focus on icing this stupid cookie. The physical space he takes up unnerves you too. That wide, towering frame looming over you. Deft, thick fingers tapping gently against the countertop as you stumble around, your hands shaky. 

There’s a stickiness. A warm, little wet spot in the center of your panties as stupid thoughts run through your stupid brain. You’re being ridiculous. Like this grown man would be interested in an inexperienced, socially awkward, in bed by eight thirty,  _ little girl _ .  _ Get a grip. _

You slather some icing over the warm cookie and cautiously hand it towards him, clearing your throat and forcing a smile. Wringing your hands again, you find a little courage to lift your eyes just as he pops the small cookie into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews slowly, a grunt sounding from deep in his throat. 

Every muscle in your body clenches at the sound. It’s  _ gorgeous— _ and if there’s anything your body appreciates, it’s a gorgeous man with a gorgeous  _ grunt _ . 

“It’s okay?” You squeak, timid and small before you nervously clear your throat.

“Shit, girl,” he moans again, licking his lips as he extends his hand again, “I could eat every single one of these.”

Nervous fingers clutch another cookie, adding a dollop of icing before you hand it over to him, eyes drifting up his chest and to his face as he devours the second treat. Your curious eyes watch with a longing. Pretty, thick, dark eyelashes closing again, splashing across smooth, slightly reddened cheeks. A pink tongue darts out of a wet mouth to slip along an inviting—  _ too _ inviting— bottom lip, and you zero in on it. Chest rising and falling a little harder as you blink, in your own little world as you imagine just how much experience those lips, that tongue  _ has _ .

There’s a hint of blue suddenly, his eyes no longer closed, now set squarely on you as those sickenly perfect white teeth emerge with another sly smile. 

Another wave of embarrassment pushes through your veins, but you can’t look away from him this time. Locked in a heated stare, mind racing, palms sweaty as you watch Andy dip his index finger into the bowl of icing, scooping the sugary mix onto the pad of his digit.

“You like watching me, huh?” 

Your mouth parts to answer, but nothing comes out, mouth and throat suddenly dry. He  _ laughs _ at you, standing there, dumb and nervous, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pushes the tip of his finger into his mouth, sucking the icing from it slowly. 

He’s moving, that much your brain can comprehend. Moving around the island, sliding the bowl of icing right to the edge where he dips his finger again, curling it to collect another glob. 

Shallow, shaky breaths escape the small part in your lips, your chest and stomach so tight you’re surprised you can breathe at all. As it is, you have to rest your palm against the marble island, just to keep from falling over.

A long arm slips around your waist, nudging you forward— closer— so close that when one of those shallow, little breaths pushes out, your chest, well, your tits, brush against his. You picked a fine day to go without a bra. He drops his free hand to your waist, pushing it underneath your oversized hoodie to feel your skin as he wraps those long fingers around your hip, giving it a squeeze before he cups your chin.

“You have a boyfriend back at that fancy ass school?” He asks, eyes hooded as he tilts your head upward.

A hum vibrates through your chest before there’s a quick shake of your head as he pushes the icing over your bottom lip, smearing the sugary mix along it. He keeps your chin anchored in his hand as he stares down at you through slits, his own mouth dropping open as he coaxes yours.

“No, a smart girl like you doesn’t have time for boys, does she?” He purrs, “You probably haven’t even been touched by a boy.”

A squeak chokes in your throat as he teases you, pushing that finger back and forth, the tip pushing ever so gently into your mouth. He chuckles again, real low, menacing almost as he knows he has you right where he wants you.

“Ya know,” he starts, thumbs stroking your chin and jaw, “This Christmas cookie frosting would taste a hundred times better on you than my finger.” He smiles again, tilting his head, “Can I see?”

You mewl, pitiful and small as emotion pools in your eyes. You’re overwhelmed— nervous and unsure, wanting to be perfect.  _ Womanly _ — but surely falling flat.

“Oh, baby,” he laughs, sweeping his thumbs underneath your eyes to catch the hot streaks, “Awww, it’s okay.”

Andy pushes in close, his lips brushing yours as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of yours, a low sound thrumming in his throat. He presses his cheek against your face, the soft hair of his beard pushing along your skin, goosebumps popping up all over. Your bodies start to sway in a slow rhythm, side to side, his warm breath washing over you as he smiles.

He pulls away, eyes traveling your face, “You haven’t even been kissed before?” When you don’t answer, he closes his eyes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “No? Oh, my sweet girl. That is just,” he groans, eyes twinkling with an emotion you don’t even understand, “You are so perfect— so good.”

His forehead comes to rest on yours, his hands still corralling your face, fingers sticky. His tongue darts out quick, licking at your lips, dragging up to the tip of your nose. You shudder, bleating as the rough velvet passes over your mouth. 

Andy moans again, sucking the icing into his mouth and swallows slow, “Yum.”

You’re jittery— clammy, as labored breaths push out of your mouth, a murky fog clouding your brain. Shaky whirs tremble through your chest as you shift on your feet, your panties sticking to your now throbbing pussy. Andy closes the distance between your mouths again, his eyes hooded as he nips at you. 

Your eyes flutter, closing instinctively— waiting for the claim. It doesn’t come, not right away, making your eyes pop open, a childish whine squeaking out. You even stomp your foot a little. Twenty years is a long enough wait. 

“Kiss me,” you breathe, not wasting a second, “Please, Andy—” 

The words are barely out of your mouth before he grabs your lips, inhaling deep. His tongue fucks into your mouth, slipping along the roof before massaging yours, sucking lightly. You go limp against him, trying to keep up with the fervent kiss, but soon just let him take full control. 

Andy pushes his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock against you, forcing you to break the kiss, gasping deep. He rests his forehead on yours again, tittering as he bites his bottom lip, “Never felt  _ that _ before, huh? Mmmm,” he groans again, “I bet you feel good. So tight and warm— umph, I’m probably not even going to be able to fit my cock all in.”

You shudder at the thought.

He brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “I gotta open you up a bit, don’t I? Hmm? This sweet little cunt needs to get used to being stuffed full.” He turns you in his hands, presses his burly chest into your back, his lips to your ear, “I want you to finish icing these cookies like a good girl, okay? You do as daddy says.”

You don’t move, you can’t really, as you try to comprehend what’s going on. It takes Andy pushing his crotch into your ass, grinding your hips against the island and literally grabbing your wrists, making your hands grab the butter knife and a cookie before your brain catches up. With shaky fingers, you push the knife through the icing and slather it on one of the small, round, golden brown cookies.

“Good girl,” he praises, pecking your cheek, nuzzling into the side of your face, “Daddy wants you to focus.”

He drags his warm palms up your forearms, stroking gently before they fall to your sides. They push up into your hoodie, fingertips glancing across sensitive, untouched skin. Small laughter vibrates through his chest as you jump and gasp, huffing and keening as he explores. 

Little kisses are pressed to your temple and side of your face as his hands venture up your sides, curling around your rib cage until he’s grasping your bare tits in both hands, squeezing and kneading— hissing as he grinds his rigidly hard cock into your ass. 

You freeze, body going stiff as nimble fingers play with your thick, piqued nipples. Warm lips nip at your neck as you push back into his hips, wiggling slowly, the thin cotton of your shorts not proving to be much of a barrier at all.

Andy reaches around, plucking the cookie out of your hand and pops it into his mouth just as his free hand skips down your stomach— right into your shorts. You jut your hips forward as his fingers plunge through your folds, massaging your clit slowly as he murmurs in your ear.

“That’s what I love about virgins. The slightest little touch gets you all worked up.” He pulls his hand from your shorts, holding it out for you to see your slick coating his fingers— a string connecting from his index finger to the middle. He brings his wet fingers to your lips, steel eyes peering at you as he waits, “Clean ‘em up.”

He slides his free hand back into your sweatshirt, pushing it up over your tits before he tweaks your left nipple, rolling it slow as he pushes the tips of his fingers into your mouth. Sweet, tiny little whines sound from you as you accept his long fingers into your mouth, starting to suck gently, the taste of your arousal exploding on your tongue.

“That’s right, just like that baby.” He reassures, slipping a hand back into your panties.

Your mouth goes slack around his fingers as he toys with you, rubbing your achy clit as your hips start to move with his rhythm. Resting your weight against his sturdy body, you moan loud, pushing out hard breaths, eyes slipping closed, head rolling on his shoulder as his wet fingers slip from your mouth back to your left nipple. 

His fingers start to tease your slit, pushing gently, slowly, until… a sharp yelp fills the kitchen as two fingers stuff you full. Andy wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to him, cooing in your ear as he continues to push in, “You’re okay baby. I know, I know sweet girl, we’re almost there. Just a bit more.”

Tears sting your eyes as your face strains from the pressure and pain of being spread for the first time. Once his fingers have disappeared, the heel of his palm pressing against your folds and clit, he pulls your chin towards him and licks at your mouth, sucking air in between his teeth.

“I can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy,” he kisses you quick and hard, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before he releases you with a loud smack, “I love a virgin cunt. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

You squeak when his fingers start to move, slow, deep, a squelch sounding as his fingers push into your muscles. It hurts, but there’s a twinge of  _ good _ , something inside of you being pleasured once you push past the pain. The sweet taste of pleasure doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks as his fingers pick up a brisk pace.

Andy growls in your ear, the sound scratching at the back of his throat, kind of hollow and breathy as he grinds his cock into your ass, “You havent fucked yourself like this before? I didn’t think I’d hurt you this bad with just my fingers, baby.” 

A hot, rough wetness slides along your cheek, his tongue, lapping at you. You grab onto his forearm, feeling his muscles tense and flex as he fingers your innocence, digging your nails into the thick Shetland wool sweater covering his torso. He pushes deep, suddenly, making you cry out again.

He grunts, snaking his hand up into your hoodie to take a firm hold of your tit. Resting his forehead to the back of your head, he quickens his fingers, his hot breath on the back of your neck, quick swipes of his tongue and lips against your hypersensitive skin— making the miniscule hairs on your body stand on end. 

His palm presses against your clit with each shove of his fingers. Strapping, hard chest flattened to your back, loud, husky moans in your ear. His hips roll and push, writhe into yours as his fingers start to thrash. Teeth sink into your shoulder, his tongue sliding and sweeping.

“Andy—” you cry, whimpering like a child, “It hurts. I— I can’t,”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His fingers slow and then stop, pulling out of you to rub your clit, soothing the balmy flesh. He turns you around in his arms as you cry, lifting you right from your feet, “I’m sorry. Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby.” 

The instant warmth of his mammoth chest and arms soothe the tumultuous pangs of anxiety coursing through you. Nuzzling in, the softness of his beard helps ease your nerves as you wrap two jelly arms around his neck. Andy’s big hands push up and down your back as he murmurs sweet nothings. Stomach tight, heart fluttering, face hot and wet with tears— you’re properly overwhelmed and overstimulated, and Andy could just eat it all up.

“You are so pretty when you cry, you know that? You did so good, baby. You took my fingers so well.” 

You huff, disappointed, pushing your face deeper into his neck, “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispers, “It’s okay to not be ready.” He sits you back on your feet, pulling and adjusting your sweatshirt back over your chest. He pecks your lips quick before cupping your face in his hands, “It’s gonna make our first time together so much better.” 

He pushes in to kiss you again, but stops, just as his lips brush yours. You get up on your tiptoes, wanting to meet his mouth but he’s quick, pulling away and stealing another cookie as he takes a step back. 

“Thanks for the cookies, sweetheart.” 

And just like that, with a wink and a smile, he’s moving out of the kitchen, the front door slamming behind him. 

-

It might as well be the middle of a Texas summer heatwave in your bedroom. Exasperated, you throw the covers away from your body, skin slick with sweat as you wipe at your forehead. You’ve been like this all day— hot and irritated, stomach and mind jumbled, unable to focus on much of anything but thoughts of depravity. Pissed off at yourself more than anything; that you couldn’t take it  _ all _ . 

You sit up in the dark room, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from behind the thin curtains over your window. Snow flakes float down from the sky, glimmering, basking in the soft, natural light of the moon. Thoughts of Andy return. Reddened, full lips on your face, his soft, velvety, pink tongue forging its own path in the uncharted territory that is your mouth. His hands, big and warm, pinching and grabbing, pushing in deep. 

Every muscle in your body clenches; achy cunt squeezing around nothing. 

A soft light illuminates from the nightstand, followed by a buzz, a random alert from your twitter. But then,  _ oh but then _ — Andy’s words come floating back to you.  _ Better yet, let me give you my number.  _ The sleek iphone is in your hand within seconds, fingers sliding over the keyboard, shooting off a text.

**You 1:15am**

_ You up? _

**Andy B. 1:17am**

_ What’s a smart girl like you doing up so late on Christmas Eve? _

An influx of air fills your lungs as your heart leaps.

**You 1:17am**

_ I can’t sleep… _

**Andy B. 1:18am**

_ Want me to help with that? _

_ You won’t be getting much sleep tho… _

**You 1:18am**

_ That’s what I’m hoping… _

**Andy B. 1:19am**

_ LOL, okay smarty pants, come wait for Santa with me, front door’s open _

You’re already halfway down the stairs by the time his invite slides across the screen. You shove your feet into your Ugg boots at the bottom of the staircase and grab your jacket from the coat rack, pushing into it as you throw open the front door. Crossing your arms over your chest, you jog down the steps of the porch and start for Andy’s, an instant chill rattling right down to your bones. 

Footprints in the snow follow you as you cross the lawn, a light crunch sounding underneath your feet, adding to the  _ whoosh _ of a breeze that rips through the sleepy street. Once you’re on Andy’s porch, you reach for the door, pushing through the threshold and closing it softly with a click. 

The house is dark, and quiet, a tiny point of light coming from the kitchen and the random ticks of a clock somewhere deep. Your jacket hits the floor, ugg boots thump against the wall as you kick them off, hand slides along the banister as you climb the stairs slow. Wide eyes adjust to the dark as you pad slowly down the long hall, passing by one closed door, and then another until you reach one that’s slightly ajar. Light spills out of it, splashing over your bare toes as you step right up to it, fingertips pushing against the door. 

You find Andy propped up against his headboard, chest bare, legs spread— hard, pink cock sticking out of his boxers, gripped tight in his hand. He flips his eyes to yours as he strokes himself slow, pushing his hips into it, groaning at the sight of you. 

The air in your body— the room— is sucked right out as you lock eyes. With a blink, your greedy eyes are on the move, down his hair smattered chest and chiseled stomach, over the dark blue boxer briefs, down his meaty thighs and toned calves, right to his curled toes and back up again. 

You have to bite your lip to keep quiet. 

“I’ve been,” the words out of his mouth come to a halt being replaced by a low grunt as he squeezes his cock, precum dribbling out of his slit, “ _ Shit _ sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Haven’t been able to cum since you left me all worked up.” 

You bleat softly, blinking wild and nervous as you watch his hand slide up and down, palm and fingers sweeping over his mushroom head to collect the droplets of his arousal to push it down his shaft. 

“Well, come on. Come touch me.”

It’s a good thing your feet aren’t as stupid as your brain, or else you’d still be standing in place. Before you can get your mind to catch up, you're pulling yourself towards the edge of the bed, falling forward, catching yourself with your hands. Crawling between his legs, your tank top hangs low, Andy’s eyes peering down your cleavage before you sit on your knees— hands trembling. 

He reaches for you, grabbing your wrist gently, pulling your hand towards his towering cock. Guiding you slow, he wraps your hand around him, his hips jerking soft at the warmth of your palm and pushes your hand down to his base, before dragging it up to the tip. He helps you for a few more strokes, twisting your hand around him, guiding your fingers up over his cock head and then back down, squeezing your hand to apply a gentle pressure.

“That’s right, baby— _ ah _ —” he hisses, jutting his hips up into your hand, “ _ Shit _ .” 

You continue to pump him after his hand falls away, relishing in the small noises that sound from him— sending your heart soaring. His hips pulse into your hand, eyes fluttering as more cum bubbles out, slipping and sliding over your fingers. Andy reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it out, covering the room in darkness except for the moon. 

He’s beautiful like this. Chest tight and shuddering with each breath, dark eyelashes splayed over fair skin, a chorus of sweet, small little whines and praise pouring from him. A soft pink blush unfurling over his broad chest, creeping up his neck.

“ _ Fuck baby, _ ” breathless and strained, “You’re a fuckin’ pro already. My smart little girl.” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth but still can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners, “Oh, you like that?” Andy smiles lazily, “You like being my smart little girl?”

Hot lips are on yours before you can even form your mouth to answer. Flipped onto your back, strong hips digging into yours, his cock pushing against your covered clit and slit as he kisses you hard. It takes your breath away. 

You’d always thought you’d be awkward, stiff and unknowing, once you finally reached this moment— nothing but teeth and elbows and knees in all the wrong places—  _ but _ , there’s a natural instinct coming into play. You’re lost, but somehow intricately aware. Fingers creep up his biceps and curl around his shoulder blades, digging in as your hips push back into his. Mouth leans into the feverish kisses, tongue sliding with his.

Colossal hands push into your shorts, pushing them down before his feet knock them off the rest of the way. Your top is rucked up, up over your breasts, exposing more brown skin, two soft, jiggling mounds, two piqued nipples soon sucked into a warm, wet mouth. A long middle finger toys with your clit, rubbing circles before more fingers join, slipping through slick and skin as they play. 

“Tell me,” hot, whispered words sting in your ear, “Tell me you like being my smart girl.”

Hips dig into yours once more, hard cock pushing against your sensitive nub, then pressing at your opening. You grab the back of his neck, moaning hard and loud as electricity bounces through your veins, “ _ Andy— _ ” you squeak, “ _ I like— _ ” 

A sharp cry breaks through the words as Andy pushes hard, spearing you for the very first time. Pressure and pain courses through you, body going tight and stiff as he sinks deeper and deeper, large palms on your cheeks, forehead to yours, warm breaths and ragged, choked grunts washing over your face. 

Hard kisses— one, two, three— on your lips as he holds your face, his eyes closed, mouth hanging as he sinks, sinks, sinks until you’ve taken him all. Your head is empty. Devoid of any real, coherent thoughts, unable to focus on any one thing; well, nothing other than the  _ fullness _ .

“Tell me you like being my smart girl.” Andy rasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to keep himself together. He shifts, hips pulling away from yours, cock dragging out, “Come on baby, tell me you like it.”

Andy pushes his hips, pushes back into you, but real gentle and smooth, knowing you’re teetering— overwhelmed in more ways than one, a feeling that can turn south on a dime. So, he keeps his hands on your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles. He opens his eyes, giving you something to focus on as he moves gently— so, so gently. Keeping you present.

“Use those words, sweet girl. Talk to me.”

Water fills your eyes as you grip, nails biting into the meat of his sides as he fucks you slow and sweet. Heat burns through you, tiny sounds, choked sobs scratch at the back of your throat, but it’s good— feels  _ so good _ . Your legs push up and around his waist, hands start to snake up his sinewy back, feeling the muscles flex and tighten as he makes you a woman— makes you  _ his _ .

Safe. Warm. Cocooned between his heavy body and the light mattress. Hips rolling, pushing and pulling. Hot breath over hot skin. Quick, jumbled words, thick and ripe with a heady lust.  _ You like being his smart girl. _ Gripping fingers, around your face, your wrists, your tits, hips, thighs, ankles— everywhere you could possibly imagine. 

Andy flips you over suddenly, his back now pressed into the mattress as you lay on top of him. He positions you right where he wants you— sitting you up straight, positioning your hands against his brawny chest. He encases your waist with those massive hands, squeezing tight before the pads of his fingers drag along your thighs as you wiggle, getting used to the new position. 

“Push up— that’s right, sweetheart,” he sighs softly as you follow his direction, “Now sit back down—  _ slowly, baby, go slow _ .” His head falls back on the pillows as he exhales, a groan trembling through his chest, “ _ God, yeah babe. Good girl _ .  _ Up and down, up and down. _ ”

Your fingers push through the tuft of soft, dark hair covering his chest as you ride him, lifting and sitting, rolling and bucking as you get a hang of it— catch a  _ feel—  _ your clit rubbing against his taut skin. You feel Andy trying to keep his composure, feel him trying to restrain himself, his hips. Watch his eyes flutter and close as his mouth goes slack again as he pushes up into you, meeting your increasingly greedy thrusts downward. 

“I’m your smart girl,” you whisper, heart beating hard and fast in your chest as your confidence grows, “I’ve always wanted to be your smart girl.”

He jams up into you, much harder than anything you’ve felt so far. 

A sharp yelp cracks into the silence and he grabs your wrists, runs his hands up your arms, before he cups your face, “Shhh, shhh, shhh, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know it was gonna sound so sweet,” he laughs, “God, I fucking love hearing you say that.”

He drops a hand back to your chest, grabbing a handful of your tit, toying with your nipple, pinching and pulling. His other hand wraps around your hip again, helping to pull you forward, as he thrusts soft. You don’t move; you just let him fuck up into you, grab his hands and thread your fingers with his as you bounce. 

Thrusts get faster; hips hurried, jabbing. Wet rasps fill the room, octaves soaring. You fall forward a little, unclasping his hands to catch yourself against his chest. Andy’s hands are back around your waist and hips as you fuck down onto him, chasing that little, dull ache in the pit of your stomach that grows with each push of his hips. 

Andy has two full handfuls of your ass, growling loud, hips faltering— losing control as he forces you down on him. You take each hard thrust, tears spilling down your cheeks, pleasure and pain all wrapped up into one. Sweat and heat crawls along your skin, stomach goes tight, throat dries. You dig your fingers into his chest as your toes curl, whimpering and crying out, choking as the pressure builds.

You tighten— freeze quick, gasp hard as a white hot orgasm floods your veins, like a molten lava, oozing, spreading. Flattening yourself to Andy’s chest, you let him wrap his arms around your back and hold you tight as he fucks you through it. The meat of his thighs slapping against yours, your cunt sounding wet and filthy, squelching and convulsing as you come. 

There’s another heat, quick and dense, filling you as Andy’s grunts grow deeper. His grip on your ass tightens as he spurts— your used cunt coaxing long, hot ribbons of white silk from his sensitive, red cock head. He falls out of you, dick wet and hard, pushing through your ass cheeks as his hips still churn out of habit and inherent instinct.

Hands are on your head, fingers wiping at your face and forehead, pushing hair away. You’re embarrassed— not sure why— and nuzzle into his neck, hiding your face as you tuck your hands into your chest protectively. Another laugh sounds from him, vibrates through you, as he kisses your forehead and rubs his bearded cheek against your face.

“You’re a sweet girl,” honeyed, his voice, smooth and sweet, slow drags of his hands up and down your back lulling you, calming you, suddenly nervous, “My sweet, smart little baby. You okay?” you nod, but it isn’t good enough, “Tell me.”

“I’m okay.” You sniffle, eyelashes clumped, cheeks wet, lips swollen and red.

You nuzzle into him more, taking a deep breath as you listen to his heartbeat. Another silence fills the room, Andy’s breaths soon turn deep, slow and rhythmic, his hands and fingers coming to a slow stop but still splayed out over your back. A quick press of your lips against his neck makes him shift, but doesn’t wake him. You press another on his chin before you settle down into him once more, watching as snow starts to fall again. 

-

There’s a Christmas present sitting at the edge of the bed when you wake the next morning, your name scrawled out on the name tag. You tear into it, pulling out a small white box, the name LELO embossed over the top. Eyebrows firmly furrowed, you turn it over in your hand, mouth falling open as you read the description and eye the two twenty karat gold Ben Wa beads.

Andy appears in the doorway, a steaming cup in his hand, a smile on his face, “Merry Christmas. Santa came for you, huh?”

“Merry Christmas,” you glance away, “I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay,” he shrugs, “I was a bit presumptuous after our little rendezvous in the kitchen— ordered those from Amazon yesterday.” He pads towards you, leaning down to kiss you quick before he hands you the hot mug, “Are you okay?”

A nervous giggle escapes through your lips, your head falling as you cover your mouth with your hand, “Mmhmm.”

Andy tips your head back upwards, pushing his index finger underneath your chin, smiling again before he kisses you all sweet and soft and slow, making you go all stupid and gooey again.

“What are these for?” You ask after he pulls away a few moments later.

His eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he winks, “Training. Now, lay back and spread your legs for daddy, little one.”


End file.
